


Life is Sweet Tonight

by Girl_chama



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Baking, F/M, Fluff, Napping, Spoilers, chargestep - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 03:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18327284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girl_chama/pseuds/Girl_chama
Summary: In which Sidestep gets a nap, which isnotinterrupted by Ortega





	Life is Sweet Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> for @quatraquartz

Kicking back with one foot, Iodine made sure the door was shut behind her. The final tails had fallen off somewhere near the bay before she had backtracked, but even superpowers did not make her immune to traffic. Two hours after the crash and burn that was Hollow Ground’s flunkies (they crashed, they burned), she dropped onto the couch as heavy as if she were still wearing armor.

It took only a second to pull her hood over the messy scrap of fringe that passed as her hair. Another second to beat the throw pillow into something suitably submissive for sleep. The day had gone for the most part to plan, scouting out neutral ground to set off the regen-tech for herself and Argent. But Hollow Ground had not and would not forgive the theft. Her goons had been beating a hot trail through Los Diablos every night and day since. After what had happened with John and Shroud, she could not risk Hollow Ground or some other West Coast whack job finding her puppet.

There were other considerations, so many other plans to run through, but right now her ribs were aching, her feet were cramping, and both shoulders felt like they might be better off to fall off. She dropped her head onto the pillow and made it halfway through a yawn before she was gone.

_…ut it was a sterile aqueous solution consisting of discrete amounts of sodium, potassium, and other ions to migrate across a skin membrane. Her wrists bit into the glossy concrete as she coughed two lungs’ worth. Air was much, much colder, bit more than those walking outside her tank ever let on. She gasped like a fish, collapsing onto the equally cold floor while her eyes adjusted to the harsh, white light. A hand reached down to her and she reached back for…_

She woke with a soft breath, blinking at the back of Ortega’s couch. That was a memory she had not considered in… years. Her decanting had happened so long ago, with so many terrors since then and now, that it was hardly distressing as far as remembrances went. A stretch toward to the ceiling as she inhaled. It was deliciously warm, and she was loathe to get up. Ambient light, or lack thereof, told her it was still dark. She rolled over in the quiet and saw Ortega sitting in the matching chair watching her.

Her mind jumped, but her body froze.

A long moment passed before Ortega blinked at her, “Despite the constant jokes, I’m not a dinosaur, you know. I _can_ see you.”

“I could have killed you,” she greeted, running a hand through her hair and effectively de-hooding herself..

He smiled for the first time, not quite a happy thing, “I don’t go down that easy. Besides, you broke into my apartment.”

There was a long pause as she squinted at him. It wasn’t exactly true. Yes, this was his place, but she had hardly broken in. A quick glance at the guard and he had invited her in as readily as if she had been a resident. Ortega’s place was not hers, but she was not going to risk dragging a tail back to her stronghold.

“You said you were going to be at tia’s,” she grumbled, scrubbing at her face.

A quiet descended that caused her to look up, and he admitted, “So you wouldn’t have come if I’d been here?”

“Your guard remembered me,” she deflected, ignoring the hurt on his face. “Besides, I’ve obviously been here when you’ve been here.”

“Oh, now you get up. Iodine, what are you up to?”

“Right now? Well, it depends on what you have in the oven over there.”

Ortega huffed a laugh, pulling on a better mask than any she had ever worn as he moved to join her in the kitchen, “I was at Mama’s, it’s true. But then my phone alerted me that someone had entered my apartment without activating the security behind them.” She gave a flat grin that did not try to meet her eyes. “When I got back, who should I find but Goldilocks.”

“I wasn’t sleeping in your bed.”

“Not yet,” he shot back, winking. She felt a familiar flush and hipchecked him.

“What’s in the oven? I smell sugar.” He sighed.

“You kept grimacing in your sleep.” Large brown fit into oven mits before he pulled out a long, flat pan covered in golden brown pastries. “Churros aren’t really breakfast food, but they have sugar, eggs- they go well with coffee, so- don’t touch!” She retracted a swatted hand as he explained, “They’re _hot_ , you know?”

She pouted, leaning against the counter as he began to mix a ramekin of sugar and cinnamon, “It’s worth it when they’re that fresh. Is that Elena’s recipe?”

“Sure is,” he confirmed. He set the ramekin aside, pulled out a small bowl, and then reached into his pantry. She wondered how involved this process was going to be before she could just eat the damn thing- once, years and years ago, Elena had made chocolate-dipped churros for an after supper treat. Oh, they had been… the closest thing to divine she had ever experienced. Sweet, chewy, crisp, warm. Her mouth was watering at the memory.

Ortega scooted the empty bowl in front of her- maybe for the chocolate?- and then dropped a tall box between her and the churros. She quickly glanced from the box to him and back and-

Oh no. He smirked at her.

Oh _hell_ no. She snatched the box off of the counter, staring down at herself, or who she had gallavanted as almost eight years ago. Sidestep saluted her behind a photoshopped bowl of black and turquoise rings. StartSteps stared up at her, and she turned a slow glare on Ortega who gave her his most satisfied shit-eating grin.

“What the hell, Ortega?”

“I never said I was giving you one of these churros. You broke into my house, and- ahaha, that is an honest expression if I’ve ever seen one- if you break in, you get what you get.” She snarled down at the box. It was supposed to taste like chocolate wafers and mint, but somehow it had always just tasted like sugar.

She reached for the box. It was half-full. How disgusting.

“What the f- how _old_ are these? How do you even _have_ these? This is... weird- more like a Herald thing to do.” She could not stop herself from opening the box, morbid curiosity getting the better of her. Inside, the heavily dyed rings had bleached to something the color of toothpaste.

“I found them one day randomly while I was out shopping,” he explained, wielding the ramekin and turning back to the churros. “Chen was there, and I think- Dios mio, Iodine!”

“Rumfin wron?” she asked, crunching around a handful and digging into the box for a second.

“You called my bluff, that’s what’s wrong- no, let go of the box, you’re gonna bend it.” When it was secured, he set it atop the refrigerator. “That and Ebay are part of my retirement plan.”

“Ha,” Iodine leaned against the counter, “How much do you think your golden boy would dish out f- Mmph.” Her mouth closed around the churro that had been pushed into it. Ortega shook his head but he was grinning. She bit down on the buttery soft treat, eyes closing. Flavor gently coated her tongue, melding against the back of her mouth, dissolving into a soft butter between her teeth. What an experience.

She sighed as she continued nibbling at it. It was as if the sweet had unlocked a level of tired she might have otherwise deflected by avoidance. The clock across the room said she had only slept a few hours, and her waking hours had been so much longer.

Maybe it was the tired, or maybe it was the churro, but she leaned forward, straight into Ortega’s shoulder. His deltoid was firm beneath her weight. She was content to endure the small twitches of his arm as he finished working, but a moment later he switched hands and the arm was motionless beneath her head. It was at once more comfortable than the couch pillow and not enough. There was a heavenly warmth coming from the oven, and the kind of quiet that came from being head blind. She half-wondered if she was sleeping again, but then the arm shifted, quickly settling around her shoulders. She turned her face into his chest, and for the briefest of moments, she was _certain_ she was sleeping. This was too comfortable, too safe, and the world was enough.

Iodine lifted a companion arm to effectively wrap them in an embrace.

“Thank you,” she murmured against his shirt, almost too quietly to be heard.

Ortega’s fingers stilled over the pan where cinnamon and sugar were caramelizing. Then he curled toward her and dropped a lingering kiss on the top of her head. Iodine sighed in contentment. Then took the opportunity to snatch another churro.

“I saw that,” he said softly.

“You were supposed to,” she whispered back. Quiet laughter rippled through his closeness into her, and she could not stop her smile.

“You really are dead on your feet. Go lie down. The churros won’t go anywhere. We’ll talk about getting you keyed into the system if you ever need a place to crash.”

Iodine squeezed the arm that was pleasantly heavy on her shoulders. Running through a discussion of why she could not and would not be coded into anyone’s security system was a denial for another time. She took a third churro and shoved the whole thing into her mouth on the way back to the couch.

When she was settled again as she had been before, a blanket draped with comfortably heaviness over her shoulders.  She glanced back in curiosity, in time for the kiss Ortega had aimed for her cheek to land slightly lower. The cinnamon tasted better from this angle.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered against her lips, and she nodded, snuggling down into the couch.

For tonight, life could be sweet.


End file.
